


let's get a cup of coffee (talk instead)

by thescyfychannel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Absolute Disaster Gays, Emotional Constipation, Furniture Barricade, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations (sort of), troll vocalizations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24947632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: Dave + Karkat? Great. Davesprite + Karkat? Fan-fucking-tastic!It's only the Dave + Davesprite part that seems to be tripping your boyfriends up, and honestly, you're rapidly reaching the end of yourrather limitedpatience.(Hell, it's only been prolonged thus far by the existence of their admittedly fine plush rumps.)
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Davesprite/Dave Strider, Davesprite/Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Davesprite/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54
Collections: Homestuck Polyswap 2020 - Derse





	let's get a cup of coffee (talk instead)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strititty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strititty/gifts).



> "Karkat can have two different Daves, as a treat. Those Daves can also make out, as a treat. Davesprite finding his way into the Davekat experience because he also ends up liking Karkat would be cute. Dave the guy and Dave the bird hashing out some of their emotional issues and doing some poly negotiation and/or deciding 'fuck it, dating yourself can't be that weird anyway right'
> 
> (and then it being really, really odd, but not like... bad odd. they've just diverged enough for things to be different.)"
> 
> They're disasters! In love! But Karkat's into that, probably.

You're technically not supposed to be part of these negotiations, but from what little you've been able to glean, they basically always go down the same way.

Something will come up—some emotional issue, some quirk of diverging universes, some shifting constant that they'd each previously thought to be immutable and stable—and they'd give each other a _look_ , like they could see through those stupid pretentious shades they each wore, and then they'd—

Well, actually that part had changed from "made up some lame excuse on the level of wrigglers skipping their first ever day of lusus-mandated playtime" to "made up some excellent excuse on the level of wrigglers _attempting_ to skip out on imperial schoolfeeding", and _finally_ after some heavy duty heart to hearts on three different fronts (individual and the dreaded double-dave(s), of course), to "hey Karkat, apple of our eyes, beloved blossom of our beating bosoms, we have to go rap some Emotion Shit out brb".

Sometimes Dave said "brbs" like it was the back half of suburbs. Sometimes Davesprite said it like he was describing a round fat tweetbeast picture.

Still. Pretty consistent.

And even if the introductory monologue of advanced fuckheadology had adapted over the course of its several semesters, the ending had always been the same: "So like. Dating yourself can't be that weird anyway, right?"

And then. _Then._ Obvious, awful, unremarkable then!

The fuckers would absolutely fucking refuse to go through with it.

You didn't get it. You seriously did not comprehend it in the least.

They were both into you. They were both, you were _fairly fucking certain_ , into each other. And yet, somehow, every time they got even remotely weird about anything—every time they got even remotely close to getting their shit together and _getting_ together—they'd slither or walk or flutter or what-fucking-ever off to their own separate corners to meditate it over.

Maybe it was a difference in universes? Maybe it was something you just couldn't grasp?

You were, unfortunately for them, nearing the end of your godsdamn twisted and reinforced twine, though.

On further reflection, that's probably why you ended up kicking the door open and barricading the exit. Stress! Stress can make a troll do some seriously crazy things.

Really, you're just out here trying to do your best, and sometimes your best is, you know, sitting on top of a heap of furniture you've made while you glower down at your beloved significant others and refuse to let them pass.

"Okay," you tell them, arms crossed and fangs on full display. "We're going to sit here, and we're going to talk through this, and _nobody is getting laid until we come up with a solution._ "

You've never seen two people so quick to drop down into their seats and offer you their full attention. _Damn_ , you're the best boyfriendleader.

"Uh," Dave says, and there's another sunglasses-penetrating consideration. You pull out a trick you'd learned young—the softest rumble of a growl hint, deep in your chest—and the both of them sit up straighter. Hah. "Look, it's not—like, we've talked about it, you know? And we're both doing good—"

"You've kissed before," you point out, because someone absolutely needs to and apparently the job is falling to you. "It seemed like you guys were enjoying it at the time."

You're smug: Now they can't quite look at each other in addition to not being able to look like you.

Davesprite's tail twitches, and you zero in on the display of weakness, raising one of the dreaded upper-eye-hair-guards. He pulls his wings in defensively, rustling his feathers. "Yeah, okay, it was kind of hot. But dating yourself—"

Oh, okay. You think you have a guess—a guess, but it's probably a pretty good one—of where they're tripping up on this. "Is it because you're too similar or because you're too different?"

"What?" This is a chorus, and you know, you've always kinda liked how their voices sort of balance with each other.

Dave takes a beat, like he's trying to pretend he didn't just do the Weird Twin Thing. "Crumbcake of my heart, are you seriously boiling our potential romantic entanglement issues down to us being clones or not clones? Because there are several ways a guy could take that and not many of them are—"

" _Dave_ ," someone says, and oh shocker, it's not you! Player Two has entered the game, or something.

Oh. Shit. Apparently you did one of your little Troll Noises of Triumph, as your flushmates have defined them, because they're both staring at you with the subtle shift in their expressions that mean they're caught between amusement and fond exasperation. You'd also like to note that you've become a phenomenal reader of Striders. "Carry on," you say, waving a hand imperiously in lieu of calling attention to this fact.

One of the first things you'd learned about Striders was that they would literally rather die than submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

"Dave," Davesprite continues, tilting his shades low. Holy fuck. You wish you'd known that cheating was allowed. You would've rolled up in lingerie or something. "He's got at least twenty-five percent of a point there. Perhaps so much as half, depending on the rules of structured debate."

"Jesus Fucking Christ," Dave says, pressing the heel of his hand to the center of his face—the dip where his forehead turns into his weird human nose, the spot you like to kiss—like if he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough all of his problems _might_ go away. "We've talked about it, Davesprite, it's—it's like dating the original me, who's also my clone, only he's not and I'm not, and neither of us are the same person _all at once_."

Ohhhhh. Okay. You think you might be getting it. "So it's not 'too different' or 'too similar', it's both, all at once, in the ever shifting paradigm of human emotion?"

"That's the third time you've used 'paradigm' this week," Dave says.

Davesprite's grinning. "Quarter in the jar."

"Sure," you tell them, easing yourself off the barricade. "Then we can sit down and have a nice talk about what you're both looking for in a relationship with yourselves."

"But we just—"

"You're in love with each other, aren't you?" They both sink a little lower in their chairs (and honestly, no one's _really_ seen slouching until they've seen Davesprite do it), which is a yes, and go even redder (red-oranger) which is a _hell yes_ , so you feel safe in assuming that you're A., right, and B., getting your way. "Then we're going to sit down properly, no barricades or hissing, and talk this out. Because I love the both of you, even when you're nook-slathering, bulge-wallowing disasters, _and I want you to be happy_."

"That almost sounded like a threat," Dave muses.

Davesprite's focus is slightly elsewhere: "I want to know what 'nook-slathering' is. Also 'bulge-wallowing', probably."

Yeah, okay. You're all gonna be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> _let's get a cup of coffee (talk instead)  
>  let's hear about the thoughts (inside your head)  
> fill me in on everything (while I've been gone)  
> promise that I'll never (take so long)_


End file.
